


The Crash

by willinsky



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Bottom Miya Atsumu, Jealous Miya Osamu, M/M, Miya Atsumu in a Skirt, Mutual Pining, POV Miya Osamu, Protective Miya Osamu, Sibling Incest, Top Miya Osamu, Twincest, Unresolved Sexual Tension, atsumu is beautiful, miyacest, osamu can't cope, skirtsumu, subplot where suna has something going on with his teacher
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-13 02:48:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29021496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/willinsky/pseuds/willinsky
Summary: Everything that would cause Osamu trouble, every part of him that is unacceptable, that is bad, is carefully kept under wraps by him. They always have been, for years now. Unfortunately it’s a lot, a lot to handle. Requires so much effort and takes its toll in the end.One day Atsumu wears a skirt to school and it all goes downhill from there.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Miya Osamu
Comments: 83
Kudos: 235





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> lets gooo

It’s a gloomy morning. The classes are starting once again. Rain pours down outside and the smell of wet earth is carried inside by students’ damp clothes and hair. The twins walk slowly like they don’t ever want to reach their classes. People pass by them. They look like moving blurs to Osamu. His eyes are nearly closed. The unnatural light of the corridor is giving him a slight headache, he is trying to get by with the minimum attention required. Atsumu yawns next to him and Osamu wishes he was back in bed. They pass by a classroom with an open window. The whooshing wind raises Osamu’s tie. It flails in the air for a second before slapping Atsumu in the face. Osamu feels significantly better.

A girl turns around the corner and power walks down the hallway, not checking where she is going. Atsumu knows in an instant that the girl will collide with him but he can’t react quickly enough. She bumps into his chest. Osamu reaches out to steady her but she takes a step back and raises her hand.

“Excuse… please.”

She is choked up, her chin is wrinkled in an attempt to hold the upcoming sob in and her black eyeliner is running down her cheeks.

She runs before the twins can even open their mouths and dodges some more people on her way. A small crowd emerges around the corner and chases after her. Their shouts are desperate.

“Hey wait!”

“Don’t run Onishi!!”

“Slow down!”

Osamu catches a boy’s arm. He halts his running and looks up at Osamu with sorrowful eyes.

“What’s going on?”

“Ishikawa sensei scolded Onishi senpai again.”

Atsumu’s face twists in a flash. The boy’s gaze darts between the twins before he takes off again.

Atsumu sighs. “I hate that woman.”

“She just doesn’t quit, does she?”

Atsumu gives Osamu a pointed look. They know when they arrive at the crime scene because there still are people arguing.

“ _She_ just doesn’t quit, does she?”

“Which one?”

“Onishi.”

“I have the first period with sensei and now I have to look at her pissy face for fifty minutes.”

“Don’t remind me.”

“What will _Ishikawa_ gain if she stops putting on makeup?”

“It’s not just makeup, it’s also her-”

“There are rules for a reason, no one gains anything when they’re broken.”

“Exactly.”

“She’s just minding her business dude.”

“Stirring the pot every damn week is what she is doing.”

“For whom the rules work if a student is breaking down in tears and a teacher is so pissed that you can’t bear looking at her prickly face for less than an hour?”

Atsumu’s intonation is a mocking tune, it resonates in the hall all cheerful, definitely not matching the intensity in his eyes.

People turn their heads curiously. Especially the captain of the football team who can’t bear his sensei’s pissy face.

“Oh if it isn’t my favorite Miya.”

Osamu would look completely unbothered by Takeuchi if the clenching of his jaw didn’t give him away. He clearly doesn’t like what is going on between Atsumu and this guy. Unnecessary, whatever that is. He turns to look at his twin who is already regarding him with soft eyes, a small smile pulling at his lips.

_“Don’t worry, I got this, go on without me.”_

Osamu can read Atsumu very well but chooses not to budge. A couple of drawn out seconds pass where they just stare at each other. Then Atsumu gives his arm a reassuring squeeze and pushes him lightly. Osamu sighs deeply and starts walking down the hall, people keep out of his way as he passes. He feels the heavy stares, the way they size him up. Takeuchi smirks. Osamu glares down at him before leaving the scene for Atsumu, only for him to burn it down.

Osamu knows for a fact that Atsumu cares. He knows it since the moment he saw his face twist in sympathy for a split second. But what he knows better is that Atsumu bathes in blood and tears of his enemies. He is hungry for his daily fix of trash talk and Osamu’s not going to deny him. Better put that big mouth of his in good use.

Atsumu goes to his class five minutes late and they meet in the break. Osamu observes that his tie is askew. Also the fabric on his chest is damaged. Someone must have grabbed him by his shirt.

“Hey now, what’s with that face?”

Osamu doesn’t answer, just shakes his head dejectedly. Atsumu runs his hand through Osamu’s hair, massaging his scalp gently before sliding his fingers down and cupping his jaw. Osamu leans into it and watches him with half lidded eyes. It’s a silent request. _“Stop getting into trouble you shit.”_ Atsumu’s usual smile is present on his face though, there is even a sly edge to it, and it’s all that matters to Osamu in the end.

* * *

Osamu wakes up to a bright morning alone in their bedroom. He notes that there’s definitely an increase in temperature compared to yesterday. He is still groggy though, only after a quick shower he realizes that Atsumu’s belongings are nowhere to be found. He seems to be ready before Osamu for once. Osamu also gets ready, grabs his bag and goes down the stairs.

“Good morning.”

“Morning.”

“Need help?”

“Nope.”

His dad sets the dishes down as Osamu settles. His mom looks away from her phone for a moment to smile at him and ruffle his hair.

“Where’s ‘Tsumu?”

“Left early to check on his group project one last time.”

Osamu resists the urge to roll his eyes. That group project is not due for at least two more weeks. If Atsumu is cooking something up he should at least tell his brother beforehand. Such a pain.

His mother goes on about how they are leaving for Tokyo today and how they should always check if the stove is on but it’s a regular talk and Osamu already knows everything she says.

He takes a bite and the hot food blanks his mind for a second before he remembers the way Atsumu was fidgety yesterday. Checking his phone every so often, talking with random people after practice... He texts Suna as soon as he is out of the house.

Osamu  
Whats up with tsumu?

Suna  
( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Osamu  
Ominous.

Suna  
Ominous is what you are

Osamu  
(￢_￢)

Suna  
…we did something

Osamu looks up at the bright blue sky and asks for patience. Suna has fallen. How did Atsumu manage to rope him into his mess? Whatever they did is so unspeakable Suna does not have the heart to say it. Gods help Atsumu now.

Osamu  
I got that much

Suna  
(¯▿¯) and I _just_ know you wont hurt anybody

Osamu  
Depends on the person.  
Kita-san? Unlikely.  
You? Debatable.  
Atsumu? I know I will hurt him.

Suna  
....

Osamu  
Just tell already, I may let you off easy

Suna  
No

Osamu  
Why

Suna  
Not worth it

Osamu [voice message]  
Hey Suna

Suna [voice message]  
What

Osamu [voice message]  
Yer weak

Suna [voice message]  
We will see who is weak

Suna’s got a prophetic vibe going on which is such a bad omen. Osamu clicks his tongue and locks his screen, determined to enjoy his last moments of ignorance.

* * *

He enters the schoolyard alone. Aran spots him from a distance and calls out to him. Osamu waits as he leaves the other third years he’s with and comes towards him.

“Hey Aran.”

“Morning Osamu.”

He gives Osamu some crackers which he gladly munches. They move to stand outside of the building, lean back on the wall and watch people chat with each other.

“Waiting for Atsumu?”

“Yeah, do you know what’s up?”

“You don’t?”

“No, he didn’t tell me.”

Aran chuckles. “Then I’m also not telling.”

Osamu shrugs, feeling tired suddenly. This suspense game is wearing off already. Everybody’s aware of Atsumu’s business and he’s left out. He stares into nothing and zones out. Atsumu should arrive in a couple of minutes anyway.

He looks up upon hearing loud noises. Shouts from windows, a few cheers from the roof, someone whistles. Is it somebody’s birthday? There is a small crowd by the gate, he recognizes Suna before catching a glimpse of golden hair. Atsumu’s head is barely visible between two security guards, he’s talking nonstop. Osamu pushes off the wall to step in but the guards step aside and Atsumu rushes between them. Osamu's jaw drops. Nothing could prepare him. Nothing could make him ready for this. Nothing could lighten that blow.

They are all wearing skirts. Girls’ school uniform. Six guys in total, showing off some of the longest legs Inarizaki has ever seen under a skirt. They stand there for a few seconds to make sure they are all together before starting to walk, no, march to an inaudible beat in tandem. Their aura is outright martial, every matched step is forceful like a kick. Intimidation, Osamu thinks, is what they must be going for. Their expressions are stern and mirthful at the same time as if they were trickster young gods sent here for judgement day.

The initial shock wears off and the schoolyard erupts in a roar. It spurs them on. They drop the act, their faces break out in various grins of excitement. Each move to their own rhythm, a few even stop to greet people leisurely. The asynchronized movement draws Osamu’s attention back to the fact that his twin brother is a detachable unit of this scene.

Atsumu is strutting as if the piece of cloth on him is his favorite jeans and not some pleated skirt. He is cocky with all the attention. Osamu stares like his entire being is made up of eyes. Their gazes meet and Atsumu’s smile drops. He tries to continue like he didn’t see his twin but Osamu can tell his attitude is not the same. He’s deliberately not looking his way, a hesitation in his step, expression clouded. Osamu watches a blush creep up his neck before his eyes drop lower.

The skirt. It hugs Atsumu’s swaying hips, flows down and complements his thighs as they brush up against one another delectably. The way he’s walking, Atsumu normally doesn’t move like that… it’s spiced up... _Catwalk_ , Osamu’s mind supplies unhelpfully. He realizes that Atsumu now _really_ is carrying off that skirt. He distantly feels something like shame or dread but he can’t put his finger on what it is being too busy getting hypnotized over the movement of Atsumu’s hips as if they were a damn pocket watch. His gaze travels upward dazedly to meet amber eyes, already watching him. Atsumu doesn’t look away this time, instead gives him a timid smile, like an offering. Something in Osamu breaks.

His heart? Or his self control? The dam that holds years worth of longing which he doesn’t even dare to entertain? The lock on the urges he pushed away into the deepest, darkest parts of his soul so they could never ever resurface again? It doesn’t matter, Osamu feels the fire rise up in him all the same, so familiar, but it doesn’t make it any easier. The flames blaze and sear inside his chest until it hurts so much that his eyes water.

He turns to the door, takes one step, two steps and runs all the way to the bathroom.

* * *

Osamu passes by a few students like he’s not half hard and on the verge of a mental breakdown before locking himself in a stall and burying his face in his hands. Nope, not possible, absolutely not. He can’t let himself get wrapped in this. He needs to seize control, quick. He flushes the toilet before going to a sink and looking at himself in the cold light. His pale face stares back at him like a stranger, eyes red. The cold water starts to numb his fingers. It feels good. He splashes his face and it feels even better. Just as he’s out of the door Atsumu turns around the corner and jogs towards him, carrying a cloud of attention with him.

“There you’re ‘Samu!”

Atsumu’s cheerful state helps Osamu relax and he manages to ask the question he was desperately meaning to ask.

“Atsumu what the fuck?”

Atsumu smiles, all chubby cheeks and naughty. He’s wearing eye makeup, red shadows at the corners. The pink on his cheeks is his natural tone though, Osamu knows. _Devilishly cute._

“Are you gonna walk to the class with me or are you just too ashamed right now?”

Osamu pushes him forward. “I’m always too ashamed of you, asking that as if I could disclaim you with that face…”

“Why do you have to hurt my feelings every time?”

“My day doesn’t feel right otherwise.”

“Rude.. Who raised you like this...”

“Yer mom.”

They walk side by side like a pair of tall magnets, naturally arousing all the interest. Osamu can’t blame anyone, he also chances one more stealthy look at Atsumu’s bottom half.

His thighs peek out under the skirt with every quick step. The skin is stretched with muscle, reflecting the light in the best way possible. Osamu knows what they look like, he swears he knows, but suddenly it’s hard to deal. The addition of fat is enough to give them a soft look and Osamu itches to take a bite. They are just so smooth. Smooth? Osamu only then realizes Atsumu has shaved. His head feels light as a few boys from Atsumu’s project group stop them.

“Ayy Atsumu, my man, looking good?!”

“Thanks man, I woke up like this.”

“How does it feel?” He, was Suzuki his name, slides two fingers over Atsumu’s thigh, his downcast eyes boring into the skin. Osamu wants to break something.

“You wanna have a feel?”

The guy takes his hand off as if he was burned, his ears blushing. “I meant how it feels wearing a skirt…” He doesn’t say no.

“Feels,” Atsumu glances down and plays with the fabric, suddenly engrossed by the way pleats tickle his skin, “airy?”

The guy blushes even harder and Osamu observes his predicament, totally unimpressed. He deals with that shit everyday. On top of that he deals with it as his _brother_.

Osamu remembers the time Atsumu was running a fever so high that he was actually feeling cold. He had climbed on Osamu's lap whining “Yer hot ‘Samu, need ya” causing Osamu to get the fastest erection of his life. Their dad was in the room. Probably nothing could top that.

Atsumu had resisted letting go of Osamu thankfully, giving him enough time to kill it by thinking of that one family dinner where their cousin’s lap dog had diarrhea. Osamu knows for a fact that there’s no way Atsumu wouldn’t feel his hard cock poking him if he was sober. Though he doubts if Atsumu could even remember that. He later told Osamu the evening was a haze.

In any case, everything was crystal clear for Osamu and he made use of that memory for nearly three weeks until Atsumu gave him a card on their birthday that told him he’s the best brother in the world in his handwriting. It caused Osamu to go on a huge guilt trip. However, Atsumu still plagues his mind in the last second everytime he comes. And whether searching for porn or a partner, he always goes for blonds. He doesn’t know for sure if that break off period could be considered a real break off.

So Osamu knows he’s strong. He did his best and some more to keep his problem latent for so long, a piece of cloth can’t phase him now. He knows he stares, but everyone stares. If Ginjima wore a skirt, the same thing would happen. This is what happens when someone crossdresses.

No matter what they wear they need to go to class though. He nudges Atsumu and he starts walking, the groupmates follow too. They all keep chatting away, the topics ranging from today’s classes to who could possibly have drawn that giant dick on the board with a permanent marker.

Suna nearly passes by their group, but double checks and joins them upon seeing the twins. He plasters himself over Atsumu’s back, rests his chin on his shoulder and winks at Osamu. _Nasty_. Then he trains his eyes forward and drawls beside Atsumu’s ear with a low voice.

“Last ten minutes of the first period, principal’s office.”

He’s all serious as if he’s working for the intelligence service. As if they won’t come out of that office with infinite hours of extra cleaning duty and a note to parents.

Osamu is reminded of the fact that Suna’s also wearing a skirt only when he walks in front of them briskly, leaving them like he needs to be somewhere earlier, like all their classes don’t start at the same time. Leave it to Suna to craft a bullshit mysterious aura.

One of the boys sighs. “That guy’s just so cool.”

Atsumu huffs a laugh. “As cool as my left foot.”

Suzuki interjects carelessly. “Are you jealous because he carries off the skirt better than you?”

Atsumu gasps, scandalized. Suzuki laughs and knocks their shoulders. “Just kidding, obviously it suits you better.”

Atsumu’s crestfallen expression firmly stays in its place though. “Don’t expect anything from me on the project after dragging me like this.”

“Not a big loss, yer already barely doing the bare minimum.”

Osamu unintentionally chuckles at that. Atsumu hits his side and it sets off a round of scuffle. The boys go on without them, knowing it could take forever. Not wanting to run late the twins continue walking and exchanging light hits. Osamu guides Atsumu forward when they arrive at the stairs because the idiot probably doesn’t even know how to move with a skirt. Atsumu complies without questioning which Osamu appreciates. He climbs right after him and can’t help it when his eyes are drawn to the strip of skin that keeps appearing and disappearing under the skirt with each step.

That’s when he realizes there is a bruise. A small red one that will turn purple in a few days. Osamu grazes his finger against it before pressing on the skin. Atsumu sucks in a breath as he flinches. Osamu extends his hand to touch once more like a fixated kid but Atsumu flees out of his reach.

“Where did you get that bruise?”

“I bumped into a door this morning. Kita-san’s door handle can pass as a murder weapon-”

“You were at his house?”

“Yeah, he invited me so-”

“He knew?”

“Knew what?”

Osamu flicks his butt.

“Yeah? I met with Enatsu there-”

“Who’s that?”

Atsumu groans. “Will you listen for a minute without interrupting?”

Osamu doesn’t answer, already getting more and more annoyed with each word.

“She gave me the skirt, and put a bit of makeup on,” he motions to his face, “she’s on the volleyball team too, middle blocker.”

“So she prepared you there.”

Atsumu knows Osamu’s raising an eyebrow by his tone.

“Yes because Kita-san’s house is right between ours. He treated us to breakfast, but she couldn’t stay because she was going to meet with her captain…”

They turn around the corner and enter the hallway where they part ways. Osamu’s feeling robbed, Kita-san is not only the first to see Atsumu like that but also the first to eat with him while he’s in that fucking skirt-

Atsumu’s next words get him out of his funk, shining eyes boring into Osamu’s.

“Why are you so jealous? You didn’t miss anything, his food is not as _delicious_ as yours ‘Samu.”

The roll of his tongue goes straight into Osamu's dick leaving him unable to give a reply. Atsumu doesn’t expect him to, he merely smiles before turning around and walking to his class. Osamu stands there staring at the door that Atsumu has just disappeared through wondering what he did in his past life to deserve this.

* * *

The classroom is loud when Osamu enters like it always is at the start of a day. The fresh gossip has only increased it. People are constantly checking their phones to look at various snapshots of the skirt guys.

“Oh my god...”

“So cute!!”

No, Osamu doesn’t think he will check them. His eyes catch the screen of the girl in front of him as soon as he settles into his desk though. She’s making a gif of Atsumu twirling. A boy comes up to her and asks for advice on how to edit fox ears on Atsumu’s head. Some others giggle at a video of Suna striking a JoJo pose at the lens. Apparently the journalism club has already posted professional photos, and also secured a quick interview with Atsumu for the lunch break. The fact that his twin might be slowly becoming a living breathing meme eases something in Osamu. Yes, this is fun actually. Everybody is entertained by this so much already, Atsumu must be reveling in it right now. Osamu leans back in his seat with a small smile playing on his lips. The nearest conversation where the chipper voice of a girl contrasts the low voices grabs his attention.

“Doesn’t Atsumu look so pretty in a skirt?”

“That’s because he has a pretty face.”

“I think it’s about _ass_.”

Osamu barely holds his surprised laugh in, the audacity to talk about someone’s ass while their brother is two steps away... The other guy argues with the brutal-honesty-man, all fiery like a chef on a cook-off, explaining the science behind what makes someone a good skirt wielder. Osamu gives that guy a point for being so systematic about it.

“Wouldn’t Miya-kun also look good with a skirt?”

The girl addresses him by gesturing at him, actively adding him to the conversation. The ass man turns around with wide eyes, probably just realizing Osamu has been sitting there the whole time.

“I, uh, probably would look good too. Aren’t we the same?”

The girl hums. “That’s true.”

Skirt scientist comes through with a counter argument, glancing over Osamu’s figure before looking at his face intently. “I wouldn’t be so sure, you two have very distinct vibes.”

Osamu stares back, struggling with slight irritation. Distinct or not, it shouldn’t be very different. They’re twins after all. He doesn’t want to be apart from Atsumu in any way, even if it’s as mundane as clothing.

The ass man’s reply makes Osamu hot all over. “He clearly would look good because, ya know, twins. Osamu sticking with pants while Atsumu wears the skirt works better for them as a _pair_ though.”

“Definitely suits better to their _chemistry_ -”

The hell. Suna enters the classroom just in time, skipping, the teacher is on his tail. Everybody drops the subject and Osamu tries to calm his racing heart as people retreat to their desks.

He has already accepted that today will be hard on him. It’s a done deal. But the way people talk about Atsumu still entails a risk for him. Osamu thinks he experienced his fair share of disturbance though. He followed the natural process didn’t he? Felt some emotions, evaded a few erections. Wasn’t this what whoever’s fucking with him in the upper realms wanted to see? He tries to relax himself. No more shock value after this, it should be smooth sailing, maybe harsh but still smooth. With everything being analyzed and resolved, Osamu just needs some more time so that his heart can catch up with his brain. Distraction should gain him his much needed time. He listens to the teacher with rapt attention. He has never been this invested.

He manages to get into it so much that he reaches the state of being bored out of his mind. There’s a light knocking just as he’s falling asleep and Atsumu appears by the door in all his skirt glory.

It startles Osamu so hard he bumps his knee against the desk.

“Ow!”

“Hey there ‘Samu, it’s me, ya boy.”

Suna laughs unabashedly, the teacher stares at his delighted face like he’s holding answers for everything in the universe. Osamu presses his palms to his eyes. Is this the start of a headache?

“Sensei, can I take Suna? We have to be at the principal’s by twenty.”

“Yeah, I know. Suna, go ahead.”

Suna loosens his tie as he stands, back to looking as bored as ever.

The teacher gives him a once over. Suna looks over his shoulder and catches him staring before closing the door. Osamu honestly doesn’t know why Suna’s messing with their science teacher. He is already passing this class, and the teacher is engaged to the math teacher who is known to have been crushing on him since forever. According to the rumors the man hadn’t even looked her way until proposing out of nowhere two weeks ago.

Sounds like being desperate to Osamu. He will feel really bad for the man if Suna’s driving him into a corner just for entertainment.

“Miya, your twin causes you quite a lot of trouble doesn’t he?”

Osamu looks up at the teacher, surprised at his interest.

“Nothing I can’t deal with.”

The teacher hums. “Nothing poses a real problem as long as you can deal with it, right?”

Osamu blinks at him, put off by the lack of belief in the way the man says it. The teacher takes a moment to accept the nonexistent enthusiasm reflected by Osamu, then dismisses everybody to do their own thing until the class ends and promptly collapses into his chair.

Osamu puts his head on the desk and subtly rubs his chest, trying to get rid of the pressure. He lets himself drift off as his eyelids get heavier.

_The ball bounces on the floor, high._

_Osamu can’t look Atsumu in the eye._

_A missed set. He’s sitting on the gym floor. Teammates watch closely but keep away from him as if he was a wild beast. He finally raises his head to meet Atsumu’s glassy gaze. Osamu’s chest hurts again, for which he lost count today. He may not see tomorrow anyway. It sure as hell feels like it._

_Aran takes off his shirt out of courtesy and drops it on Osamu’s lap._

Osamu wakes up with a gasp and groans miserably at the pain in his neck. His hair is sticking to his forehead. The shady room is nearly empty. It's already break time. Wind from the open window sends a few sheets flying and chills Osamu to the bone. It’s like he woke up in a parallel universe, wasn’t today supposed to be warmer? He turns his head to see Suna sitting sideways at his desk. Suna shoots a look at him, the light from his phone screen illuminating his face spookily.

“Good morning Vietnam.”

Osamu’s head feels so foggy. He licks his dry lips and rasps with a frown. “Already back?”

“Yeah.”

“Any repercussions?”

“Nothing disincentive. We’ll dye the fence walls this weekend. I’m more afraid of Ishikawa sensei.”

Osamu stretches and sighs. “Being privileged must be fun.”

“She would forgive anyone on this matter actually. She was cackling in her office when we arrived.”

“Be a good nephew and tell her that damned hellcat will never hate fuck her no matter how much she messes up this institution.”

Suna smiles at him. His aunt and him, they’re eerily similar. And Suna trusts her plotting abilities as much as he trusts his own. “Wanna bet?”

Osamu eyes him, full of suspicion. “Actually, no.”

Suna smiles even wider. “Good judgement right there, better twin.”

* * *

Osamu can’t do without Atsumu as much as he can’t with him. The next break he finds himself on his way to him. He enters his classroom and at first can’t see anything but people’s backs since many students are spending their break sitting on top of their desks. Pieces of conversation hang in the air as Osamu walks between swinging legs and finds the center where the captain of the football team is kneeling in front of Atsumu.

He’s putting the team’s socks on Atsumu carefully. The white socks end under his knees, Inarizaki’s colors circle his calves. Takeuchi holds onto his ankles and looks up at him.

“Better now?”

“Yeah, thank you.”

He pats his legs twice, straightens up and sees Osamu staring. Osamu leans onto an empty desk and crosses his arms. Something dances on Takeuchi’s face but it’s gone quickly. He greets Osamu with a nod. Osamu nods back. Takeuchi leans onto another desk and looks down at Atsumu.

“No need to rush with returning. Actually, keep them.”

“Aren’t they a part of the uniform?”

“I have lots.”

Osamu clears his throat. Atsumu snaps his head up from where he was tying his shoelaces.

“Samu! Did you float here or something?! How long have you been there?”

“Around seventeen years.”

Osamu smiles at the face Atsumu makes while stifling his chuckle. Atsumu sometimes tells him to stop with the dry jokes but then cracks up at the dumbest shit Osamu says and can’t even explain to anybody what’s so funny about it. So Osamu doesn’t stop. Atsumu is the same old mess again, a beloved mixture of being fed up with Osamu and fond of him at the same time.

“Watch your chill, I’m freezing already.”

He turns his head and talks to the girls hanging around.

“Oh yeah, how come I’m cold and you’re not?”

One of them smiles at him affectionately like she’s looking at a newborn kitten.

“We are used to it Atsumu-kun.”

“I wear shorts everyday.”

A girl responds as she walks quickly to the end of the row, towards her desk. “But you’re moving around a lot then don’t you?”

Another one nods approvingly. “Not the same with sitting down constantly.”

Atsumu looks enlightened but it turns into frustration quickly. “Desks are so cold and for what? My lifespan shortens every time I touch the iron.” The memory of it makes him shift in his seat slightly.

“It’s because of the low specific heat.” That girl is deadpan as she scrolls through her phone, her leg bouncing in an anxious tic. Another girl puts her hand on it and presses it down. It must be a common occurrence between the two since the girl slaps her hand without even looking and the other laughs, wrapping her arms around the unamused one’s shoulders and resting her chin on top of her head.

Atsumu eyes them for a moment before turning to Osamu like he just had a great idea.

“You should wear one too.”

“Why?”

Atsumu puts his elbows on the desk and rests his chin in his hand. “So that we can match.” He says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, staring at his twin with a dreamy look on his face.

A girl walks into the class with arms full of snacks, her friends trailing after her all hungry like zombies after meat. Break is ending and Osamu should get going. He stands and turns to face Atsumu.

“So you think we should match?” He takes a step backwards.

“I do.”

Osamu takes another step back, his gaze lingering on his twin. “Then you should have told me what you were brewing you knucklehead.”

No reply from Atsumu. He looks at Osamu like he’s in another world. Osamu can’t take his eyes off and the small smile on Atsumu’s lips is the last thing he sees over his shoulder before colliding with the science teacher who is already here for the next period.

The man drops his notes to the ground. Osamu crouches down to pick them up. An empty jelly stick package is sticking out between the sheets. Suna was sucking on one ten minutes ago, the exact same flavor. It is new and convenience stores don’t sell it yet. Suna travelled all the supermarkets in a large area to find it like a total fool. He hands the teacher his notes.

“Thank you, Osamu.”

Osamu looks at him once more at the usage of his given name. The poor man looks so absent minded with that dopey smile Osamu nearly worries for his well being. He gets in the hallway and Suna smoothly joins him out of nowhere. They walk to their class together as Suna fixes his clothes subtly, his face a little pink.

“Bird in the cage?”

Suna whips his head to stare at Osamu who is watching a couple of boys fuss at their door, arguing over a pair of pants ruined by what looks like spilt milk.

Suna also looks forward. The boys realize they are in the way as the two of them loom over them. They step aside and Suna clicks his tongue.

“Has never been out.”

* * *

Osamu decides to skip visiting Atsumu the next break to avoid looking like a clingy motherfucker. However the social studies teacher asks him for help carrying her materials to the next class because he’s a strong boy which clearly means he’s fair game for labor around the school.

He picks up the dear giant globe she adamantly carries to all of her classes and wonders when a student will injure themselves by dropping this shit to their foot and get her banned from bringing it to school.

He enters the class and Atsumu’s ass up in the air is the first thing he sees. He ignores it easily because apparently this is his life now. Thanking all the deities that his fingers clenched around the globe harder instead of giving up on him he sets the cursed thing down on the teacher’s desk carefully.

Atsumu is bending over a desk. His thighs are more plump as it gets closer to his ass. Those are the parts that have the power to cause a civil unrest and if the skirt doesn’t cover them Osamu thinks Atsumu shouldn’t even wear it. It’s still beautiful though. He imagines a superpower where he could lick things by just looking at them as Atsumu keeps tapping a pencil to his head, visibly straining himself trying his hardest to use his brain for something other than volleyball. He’s complaining too, a whiny edge in his voice.

“But Daigo, don’t we have something like two more weeks to do this?”

“If you outline your part and assign some tasks I’ll be able to start too. So, get on with it?”

Oh. That’s the project leader’s desk Atsumu is bent over. Atsumu says something but it’s not very audible from where Osamu is.

He gets closer, taking in the way Atsumu’s broad shoulders and sweet ass leave his waist tiny in comparison. Exquisite. A natural handle. Made with care, so that Osamu’s hands can be wrapped there. Osamu doesn’t even care anymore at this point. He’s already deceiving the whole world, he won’t betray himself too by telling himself he doesn’t really want to fuck his twin like an animal in front of all of his classmates. It is one of those days. It will pass. Has passed before.

“I haven't read anything yet but I will this evening… Anyways let me check the titles.”

Osamu calls out a “Tsumu” and Atsumu replies with a “Samu” accompanied with a small turn of his head before focusing on the task at hand again.

“Alright, let’s present these first because-” his voice wavers and his body sways a bit as Osamu tugs at the back of his skirt, “because they’re kinda general.”

Daigo gives an apprehensive look at Osamu and what his hand might be doing back there. Osamu stares at him a bit longer than necessary before bringing his hand to a rest on Atsumu’s shoulder and acting like he’s interested in the words the blond is scribbling down like crazy.

“Is this really what you wanted from me, I’m just writing down the titles?”

“It’s alright, your twin is clearly waiting for you anyway.”

“He can wait.” But Atsumu saw the opening once and he won’t stay there. He straightens up. “As I said, I will read and give a better one tomorrow. Don’t rush, yeah?”

Atsumu holds onto Osamu’s arm and they turn around without waiting for a response, leaving the classroom to stand in the hallway.

“Thanks ‘Samu, just in time, he’s so fucking persistent.”

“Didn’t you say he was a laid back guy?”

“Yeah he was… He’s weird today.”

Osamu knows what that weirdness is all about. He himself is also weird today.

“Ah ‘Tsumu…”

“Mm?”

Oh god. This is awkward. Fuck.

“Can you be more careful with that skirt? Or in general?” He wasn’t going to add that part.

“What?”

“You know people are after you-”

Atsumu immediately knows where he’s going with this.

“They are after you too.”

“Yes. But you see… they are generally girls right?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s like a target audience. There’s a shift in yours today. These new people are a lot and also wild cards because what brings them in is… kinda basic.” Osamu has thought he was just going to bitch about the skirt and he surprises himself with the cognitive abilities he is showcasing. He feels like a smart animal. “I don’t want anybody to upset you. This type of guys don’t know what they want.”

Atsumu gives him a small smile but it feels completely wrong with how broken he looks. “Nobody you can think of can upset me ‘Samu.”

“That’s,” Osamu hesitates, “good to hear… But don’t let anybody experiment on you, you’re,” he glances away from Atsumu’s starry eyes and finishes with a quiet voice, “more than that.”

You got all this love and don’t know what to do with it. You also don’t know how to hold back so it flows out. All raw. It soaks wherever you go, pours into whatever you do and streams into whoever is beside you.

_No currency they’re using will ever afford that._

Atsumu hugs him. His arms close around Osamu’s neck until their chests are pressed together. Osamu wants to do the same, wants to embrace his waist hard enough so the feel is burned into his skin and engraved in his mind. He doesn’t.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The shitshow continues

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope this chapter finds you well
> 
> since it made me kinda yell
> 
> not with pleasure though i wish
> 
> it was the utter resistance of this bish
> 
> \---
> 
> \--------- Check the end notes for trigger warnings! --------

Cold. Osamu is cold and floating through the hallway.

No feels in his limbs. He is nothing but that heavy feeling around his chest. That’s the only weight left in him. If his feet are on the floor, it’s thanks to this. Osamu is not sure though. The fire that was burning him all morning went out and took all of his senses with it.

Atsumu let go of his neck, tried to hide the tears in his eyes, wasn’t successful, laughed it off, then decided to be clear and told Osamu how much he appreciates him before quickly sending him on his way. Osamu is proud of how Atsumu is satisfied with their interaction. Of his dissatisfaction? Not so much. What he asks for just goes too far.

So he does what he is told and goes to his class. Everybody in the hallway carries on with the last seconds of their precious break, everything seems normal enough, so nothing catastrophic happened right? Osamu can’t tell. He knew this is what was coming though. He went through this cycle enough times for the numbness to feel like coming home.

He is numb because the acceptance is here again. The acceptance that Atsumu will never be his. He knows this very well, it’s a fact he never overlooks, but his heart forgets it from time to time. How it even happens Osamu doesn’t know. This harsh truth makes the underlying beat in his life, it dictates his daily decisions, curbs his thoughts, polishes him so he can continue everything with all those people around.

When he gets carried away, only if just for a second, it feels like he can take on the whole world, like he can burn it all. Then it turns out he actually can’t, the reality of Atsumu being out of his reach hits and he is left smoldering again.

Osamu doesn’t know what he would do or where he would be without his self control shooting him in the foot every time he feels like charging ahead.

The bustle in his class is like balm to his nerves. Miya can you hand these worksheets? Yeah, of course. Miya, can you clean the board? We can’t reach the top. No problem.

Osamu finally sits down as the class rep walks in with quick steps. He takes one look around before picking up the worksheet on the teacher’s desk.

“Why is this here?

“It’s extra.”

He smirks. “Well, do you have one?”

Yes. Wait, no, Osamu forgot to put one on his desk. He shakes his head. The class rep walks towards him amusedly, puts the paper on his desk and slides it closer to him.

“Don’t forget to take what’s yours, Miya.”

Osamu feels like he’s dealing with the devil whenever this guy talks to him. He could tell how he drank milk in the morning and Osamu would still think he is the craftiest fucker in this world.

“Rawr! Claw it!” He mostly laughs at his own jokes but some others also laugh with him this time.

Osamu’s skin crawls. If he starts clawing, this guy’s head will be the first to go.

The teacher enters the class and it signifies the peaceful period that Osamu will spend pretending he’s a pebble stone on the virgin shores of Andalucia.

It lasts only ten minutes.

“Miya, do you know the answer?”

“No.”

“Then I would prefer that you keep your eyes open.”

Osamu gives the teacher a tight lipped smile. The man sighs and passes a hand through his dark blonde hair, messing it further. It’s the last class before the lunch break and he is a bit tired. Osamu honestly gets him. Apparently the lean man gets him too with the way he looks at Osamu with sympathy. He walks towards his desk and puts a hand on his jutting hip.

“You good?”

“So-so.”

He smiles gently at Osamu’s honest answer before pulling a bag of small chocolate chip cookies from his inside pocket. What kind of person carries cookies in their pocket? He does and that’s why he is Osamu’s favorite teacher. He complains while handing them to him.

“I can’t believe you’re making me bribe you like this every time.”

Osamu shoots him a grin before tearing the bag. They are homemade. The man’s brother has an ongoing baking obsession. Osamu profits.

“Sensei, don’t feed him. This is bordering on racketeering at this point.”

“Yeah sensei, why not eat them yourself? You are so thin!”

The man gives a bright smile at the indignant girls and he looks even younger like that. He is fresh out of university. “I eat at home more than I would like to. Let me have some freedom at school.”

“You have to eat every try of his?”

He chuckles. “Unfortunately.”

Suna thrusts out his hand to Osamu and wiggles his fingers. Osamu purses his lips and chooses the smallest one, then places it on Suna’s waiting palm cautiously. Suna flips him off under the table before popping the weensy cookie into his mouth.

The cookies work their magic and bring Osamu back to life. He finishes the bag save for five. Those are for Atsumu. He checks his phone under the desk impulsively at the thought of him.

Atsumu  
Lunch together?

Osamu smiles to himself. With how eventful today is for Atsumu, he should be the one asking this.

Osamu  
Of course  
You’re the one with the hot agenda

Atsumu  
Yours is hotter

Osamu  
How so

The answer comes with a minute of delay.

Atsumu  
I don’t know, felt like disagreeing

Osamu  
Why are you so stupid

Atsumu  
Heh you are stupider  
Everybody knows

Osamu  
Remind me this  
The next time you fuck your bike up

Atsumu  
I won’t ride what you fix for me if you  
are gonna boss me around like this

Osamu  
Yes you will  
Like you always do

Atsumu  
Ask nicely

Osamu  
You’re the one getting a favor

Atsumu  
I know dad pays you for it

Osamu sucks the air between his teeth. How did he find this one out? Suna throws a small balled up paper at him. It hits him right on the temple. He quickly puts the phone face down on his thigh and looks up. Yeah, the teacher is definitely aware of what he is doing under the desk. He doesn’t seem to care though. It’s enough for him as long as Osamu is not dissociating in his class. Osamu gives Suna a subtle thumbs up before turning to his phone again.

He bites his lip. He really doesn’t know what to say to Atsumu.

Osamu  
I mean, you have to ride something

It registers that he’s fighting a losing battle as Atsumu’s reply appears on the screen lightning fast.

Atsumu  
Not necessarily what you give

Osamu closes his eyes. _Baby why are you making this so hard?_

Osamu  
Can you continue riding the one I give?

Atsumu  
You’re forgetting something

Osamu  
Can you just ride mine, please?

He _needs_ that xbox. It is personal at this point. Oh yeah, the xbox! Fuck, he should unsend that last message. Tsumu already saw it though.

Atsumu  
Ok  
Treat me right and I’ll see how it goes

Osamu  
Do you know what I’m saving up for?

Atsumu  
No?

Osamu  
An xbox

Atsumu  
…

Osamu  
You want to play with me right Tsumu?  
What if I didn’t let you  
You would have to beg  
Bet you would cry so pretty for it

Atsumu doesn’t answer for a few minutes although he saw the messages. Osamu contemplates if calling it pretty was too much. But it is what it is. Osamu’s heart breaks everytime Atsumu’s heart breaks, however he can’t help noticing how distinctly beautiful he looks, specifically when he’s crying so quietly. It was a frequent thing in the past.

There was a period during middle school when Atsumu cried a lot. He had really bad social skills then, not that he’s super good at it now. He was rude to people and people were rude to him in return. He wasn’t able to give it like he took though. There was no way his childish attitude and remarks could compete with his classmates’ organized ostracism. With time, it got to him.

They would get home from school, shower and eat, all the while Atsumu would look as unresponsive as a wall. Then he would heave a sigh and the tears would start falling like a waterfall as he sat silently. He would breathe through parted red lips, look at his wet hands and rub his fingers together as if what was happening was a weird natural phenomenon. It was baseless according to Atsumu, there were many times he had cried, there was no reason for _that_ crying, indeed he wouldn’t be able to tell if you asked him where his heart was. It was very easy to call it a mood swing since he would go back to his normal self once Osamu held him through it.

Osamu didn’t buy that though, not even for once. If the excessive salt burns the skin around someone’s eyes and your chest gets thoroughly wet when they rest their head there, there’s so little left to deny. No amount of brushing over could cover the fact that Atsumu was deeply hurt by it all.

Osamu entertains the thought that this is why he is the way he is now. If Atsumu didn’t lay on his chest like that, if Osamu didn’t listen to his breathing calm down right under his chin, if only he didn’t drift off looking at his dark eyelashes damp with tears, maybe everything would be normal.

It’s just him pretending though. Osamu realized he was doomed way before that.

Maybe he would have a chance at normalcy if Atsumu didn’t give him a special kiss, one on the lips, every time Osamu was extra nice to him. _“Just like mom and dad.”_ They were small when it started but it continued well past the time they should have dropped it. At least Osamu was well past the point that he should have put a stop to it.

He remembers the last one very well. Atsumu had waited until their bedtime like he always did. Osamu was sitting on his bed puffing up his pillow, acting like he wasn’t waiting for Atsumu to give him his little prize. Atsumu would always let him know during the day if he won one and it would be so out of nowhere, Osamu never knew what kind of mental checklist Atsumu was ticking for it. Learning what was coming at night would leave him buzzing with excitement for the rest of the day.

That night, Atsumu climbed on the bed to sit by his side. Osamu turned to sit face to face with him and Atsumu put one hand on Osamu’s shoulder, the other dug into the sheets, the usual. His lips pressed to Osamu’s for a few seconds before leaving. The unusual part was him continuing to sit close to Osamu, staring at his twin’s lips with half lidded eyes. Osamu held his breath as he waited. Then Atsumu gave his lips a fleeting kitten lick and quickly pulled back, looking Osamu straight in the eye with a toothy grin splitting his face.

Osamu should have seen it for the red flag it was. However he leaned in for another kiss like the fool he is and never managed to get over the feeling of Atsumu’s hot open mouth welcoming him for the rest of his life.

He licked into his softness, his tongue surprised him like it wasn’t supposed to be there. And it had the power to wipe out any morals Osamu had when it slided against his, only if Osamu hadn’t lost them already by the time he realized he wasn’t able to watch his twin put anything in his mouth without his thoughts derailing.

They separated to catch their breaths. Atsumu chuckled and his puff of breath felt so cool on Osamu’s wet lips. He quickly joined their lips again and savored it when Atsumu’s small whine blended with the sound of their wet mouths. He leaned in until Atsumu leaned back on his elbow and sucked on his bottom lip. Atsumu's nails dug into his shoulder at that. Then Osamu got even closer, making Atsumu’s elbow slip and his back hit the mattress. His head was clear enough for him to faintly realize that Atsumu’s hand might have been holding him in his place when he felt it pressing against his chest. But then Atsumu sucked on his tongue and it made his brain turn into jelly. He gripped Atsumu’s waist with a growl and bit his bottom lip.

Atsumu shoved him all of a sudden, pushed his hand away and in a second he was going down, rushing to his own bed. Osamu sat there dumbfounded, still dizzy with the thrill. His heart didn’t slow down for a while and sank impossibly deep when he heard the muffled sniffles from the bottom bunk.

So he had gone overboard.

Maybe it was too much, too fast... Too filthy. They never talked about it.

Since then Osamu is very careful with him, not because he wants brownie points for another kiss, but because he doesn’t want to _hurt_. Osamu is damned if he ever takes Atsumu’s kindness for granted.

Indeed, he never got another notice for a night kiss after that but that’s perfectly okay with him since Atsumu never acted differently towards him. It is more than Osamu could ever ask for.

It has been years now. They are perfectly over it. At least one of them is.

Osamu touches his lips absently, exhales softly and feels like he will die out of longing.

He hasn’t thought back on this in a long time. How can he still perfectly recall the feeling of his lips? Even after so many years, even after so many kisses.

Why did he have to get a taste of it when it was only going to leave him hungrier? Why didn’t any entity of power care enough for him to stop him? Why does he have to be so close when he can’t get hold of him?

Osamu wants to leave. So badly. The walls are not closing in on him yet but he knows they will. He needs time, space… whatever. He needs to be away from this wonderland. This is the best and the worst day of his life so far.

Maybe if somebody had realized what was happening from the start… Oh yes, definitely. Their parents should have definitely corrected Atsumu when they were five and he was insisting that he was going to marry Osamu when they got older. They just recorded it. They have been watching it, along with other numerous embarrassing ones, as an annual family event. Osamu will never admit but the little smarty pants Atsumu declaring that he is going to marry Osamu confidently only to draw a blank when their dad asks “And then what?” must be his favorite.

Their dad laughs like a hyena every time and their mom hugs Atsumu in an attempt to support him. It doesn’t help much since soon after she cracks up too.

Osamu feels much better now that he laid the blame on somebody else. Maybe not all but at least some of it.

Atsumu  
You sick bastard  
I can put on a show for you  
If that’s how you’ll let me play

Osamu waits as Atsumu continues typing, taking his time deleting and typing again.

Atsumu  
Do you really like how I cry?

_Love to see it but it all depends on why you’re crying, dear brother._

Osamu  
Just let me do the work

Atsumu  
Do you need me to fuck the bike up more?

Atsumu sucking up to him feels so good but Osamu doesn’t want their dad to wake up to it.

Osamu  
Your usual fuckery is enough  
Don’t let dad realize you know  
He won’t trust me with you then

Atsumu  
Aye aye sir

* * *

Osamu and Suna leave their class to meet with the others. Ginjima is waiting by the door already.

“Where’s Tsumu?”

Gin points with a head tilt. “Inside.”

Osamu enters the class. Atsumu is still sitting at his desk, talking with a few people. He springs to his feet as soon as he sees Osamu and runs towards him excitedly.

“Samu!!”

He jumps into his arms and Osamu nearly loses his balance. The people around howl with laughter.

“You idiot-”

Osamu spins them around to kill the speed. Atsumu shrieks like a little kid. Osamu doesn’t know if Atsumu’s legs hit anyone but couldn’t care less. Atsumu is a bit shaky on his feet when Osamu lands him. His arms don’t leave Osamu’s shoulders.

Gin sticks his head around the door, interested with why the girls are making so much noise. “What’s taking so long, Casanova?”

Some people are just trying to pass by their chaos. Osamu pulls Atsumu by his waist. Atsumu’s arms tighten around his neck instantly like Osamu hit the right button for it. Osamu’s hands instinctively grip harder in response.

“Idiot, why are you running like you haven’t seen me in years?”

Atsumu shakes his head with no meaning other than opposing Osamu. “Time to eat! Let’s go eat!”

“Hey Miya!” They both turn their heads to respond to the girl. “Let’s record the interview first, you can eat later.”

“Oh.” Atsumu seems caught off guard. His hand slides down to rest on Osamu’s chest. “I forgot about that.”

The girl gives them a sharp grin. “I see. He can work on editing in the rest of the break if we do it now though.” She points behind her where a guy beams and shakes the camera in his hand excitedly.

“Well then.” Atsumu looks at the spiker longingly. “Go, don’t wait for me.”

Osamu lets go of him. “Try not to look stupid.”

Atsumu opens his mouth to insult back but Osamu thrusts the cookie bag to his hand. It distracts him quickly.

“These again?!” He giggles. “Are you sure you’re not getting poisoned?”

“No. That’s why you are eating with me.”

“Boo.” He bites one anyway. “Find me later?”

“Don’t get lost.”

“As if... Jerk.”

The trio set off to the cafeteria as Osamu tries to hide his disappointment at Atsumu not being there with them. He realizes how nice the weather has gotten as they step outside. They move through the woods, Suna flinches as a giant raindrop falls and hits him right on the forehead. Gin snickers and they look up at the still wet leaves, it has rained. Everything will probably dry very quickly with how strong the sun is. They try to find the rainbow but the tree branches obscure their view. The clatter of the cafeteria reaches them as they step on the stone path, even before the building comes into their view. A few people rush out and run by them, racing. One of them jumps in a puddle and it drenches Suna’s bare legs. Suna curses under his breath as Gin yells at them.

Osamu takes a deep breath as they enter. Sweet and spicy. He is so ready to eat.

They get in the short line, there isn’t that much of a crowd despite the amount of noise. Then they find a place for themselves at the end of a long table. There is only one empty chair separating them from the large crowd they share the table with. Soon it’s occupied too as Aran puts his tray there.

“Can I join?”

“Of course, of course!”

The second years’ eyes wander around, Aran always sits with the third years. There they are. Kita, Akagi and Omimi are sitting around a far off square table. There is an empty seat, one that Aran has just deserted. Kita sees the second years glancing at him questioningly and raises his water glass at them. Osamu shares a look with Suna and Gin, they are clueless too. Did they do something wrong? Why is Aran here?

Osamu looks at him as Aran asks how he is doing and particularly emphasizes it. He seems genuinely interested.

“I’m good, you?”

Aran smiles, relieved, and leans back in his seat. “I’m good too.”

Osamu nods although he feels like he is missing the punchline. He decides to focus on nothing but his food unless a natural disaster happens.

Inarizaki’s radio host joins their table after a few minutes and sits at the chair in the middle that has been reserved for him by his large group of friends.

“What took you so long, Hashida? We’re finishing already.”

“Were you taking a shit?”

Hashida ignores them. He’s staring at the guy in front of him with a knowing smirk on his face. “You know, the pics will still be there if you stop looking at your phone for a second.”

The guy in question immediately stiffens, it’s clear they were teasing him all day. “I’m not looking at them.”

They laugh and the focus is shifted successfully. All other guys get down on him too.

“He was pretending to read a book in class,” one of them wheezes and hardly continues, “but it turns out he had his phone propped there.”

“I was checking my messages man…”

“Uh-huh, do your messages appear on Miya’s leg?”

“Because that’s where you were zooming in.”

“They were divine messages man, where do you think they will appear?”

“Fuck y’all… I’m not gay.”

“Don’t worry dude, it’s not gay if it’s Atsumu.”

“Yeah, Atsumu doesn’t count.”

“Does Suna count?”

“That’s pretty gay dude, sorry.”

The guy huffs in fake disappointment, even his shoulders slump, and it cracks up the others again because he already has a boyfriend. He’s sitting next to him.

Osamu looks at Suna. He of course hears them all too. But he doesn’t give a fuck. Osamu must be more like him. He tries to focus on how Suna checks his phone calmly and tucks his hair behind his ear before typing a few words.

He can feel his ears twitch as Atsumu becomes the conversation topic again.

“It’s as gay as it’s with Suna, you ass. You’re just trying to spare yourself because you prefer blondes.”

“Moron, I don’t like blond guys, I like blonde girls and whatever the fuck Atsumu has got going on.”

The radio host decides that now another one deserves unwanted attention. “These men here are all about his ass at least, you zoom in on his face, what are you gonna say about it?”

“Well, I’m pan.”

Hashida stares at him for a second, then his face scrunches up. “What?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

Another one responds to his question proudly like he is the wisest of them all. “It means he would not only fuck him but also kiss.”

“What do you mean? If I fuck Miya Atsumu of course I’m kissing him.” Hashida looks even more confused as people around him scream-laugh. “You guys question this?”

Under the table, Aran puts a hand on Osamu’s knee like he might spring to his feet and fuck shit up any second. He is not wrong.

The host continues to grumble as he is now at the finger of suspicion. “You are all full of shit… Who the fuck passes up...”

His friends go crazy with that, they throw remarks at him like they have been waiting for this moment all their lives.

“Hashida, I’m sorry, but I wouldn’t kiss a guy…”

“Yeah, me too.”

Another one defends the host’s view. “But you would fuck? What is this bullshit logic?”

Encouraged by his newfound support, Hashida persists. “His face is prettier than your girlfriend’s, you’re afraid you might fall.”

Osamu knows Aran is saying something but his brain doesn’t process his words.

“Well, better legs too.”

They holler at his honest answer.

“I’ll tell her how fast you put her aside.”

“Take pity man, he likes it with legs over his shoulders.”

Hashida hasn’t pitied anyone in his life. “Who would win, a straight man with a leg fetish or one gorgeous Miya Atsumu? I want this video shot right now.”

Suna says something as he stands up, Aran stands up too, his eyes are on Osamu as he talks. Osamu barely pays it any attention as Gin grips his arm.

“Hashida, man, you’re so fucking sus-”

“If your dick doesn’t come alive at that ass, you’re impotent you shit.”

The sound of Osamu’s chair scraping against the floor is loud and it kills all the noise in the cafeteria. The host’s eyes widen as he watches Osamu stride closer to him. Osamu grabs the back of his shirt and pulls him to his feet like he is holding a cat. His chair topples over.

“What-”

Osamu pushes him against the table and punches him. His nose immediately starts to bleed. Osamu hits again without wasting time. Omimi materializes out of thin air and grabs his arm before he can land another. Aran presses his other arm to his chest as Osamu tries to pull back.

“Fuck… Let go!!”

The host watches him like a deer caught in the headlights. Osamu doesn't look away even for a second as he growls at his teammates and strains against their hold. The guy is just waiting for him to tear him to shreds. His friends left him there to appease Osamu. He is the one that will take it. Osamu just needs to get out of their hold, he just-

“Nobody is letting go if you're gonna act like a feral animal.”

Kita’s voice barely cuts through the fog in Osamu’s head. He strains more but Ginjima joins the party with a hand pushing against his shoulder. Fuck off, he got on his line of sight.

“Osamu, either you cool it or we’re dragging you. Sorry.” Aran doesn’t even sound apologetic. They’re already dragging him anyway. Was Osamu the only one hearing all that shit? How can they not understand-

Suna appears in front of him, looks him in the eye and flicks his face a few times. “Get your shit together, Osamu. Teach him a lesson.”

They let him go the second he stops resisting. Osamu sees that he hasn’t moved from his place as his teammates get out of his way. His friends have come to stand around him and touch him like he has really taken any beating. There is a napkin in his nose. They all watch warily as Osamu walks there calmly, it is a striking contrast to what he was like a minute ago.

He stands in front of the host and examines. His bottom lip is split open. His nose is probably not broken. He also won’t look at him. Osamu tilts his head with a hand under his chin and forces him to look into his eyes. Then mutters.

“When were you going to shut the fuck up?”

He just stares at him.

“You weren’t going to, right?”

Osamu crowds him and the guy reaches back, trying to put a bit of distance between them, but his hands only find the table. Osamu helps him up with hands under his knees and gets in between his legs as he slides back on the table. An empty tray falls on the floor with a loud clang. Osamu frowns and speaks with a deep voice, almost soothing.

“Couldn’t you see I was right there, you bastard?”

He opens his mouth like he has anything to say. There are a few “hey hey”s and “take it easy”s as Osamu wraps a hand around his neck in a flash. He reaches to grip Osamu’s wrist at first, but his hands fly back to support himself on the table as Osamu pushes instead of squeezing.

“Are you stupid enough to talk about my brother like that when I’m around?”

He takes a troubled breath but clearly there is enough attitude left in him to talk back. “What’s the matter? Aren’t you and your twin used to this?”

Osamu waits for him to continue so he can fully see what utter bullshit will spew from his mouth.

“People always talk about how they want to hop on your cocks and hope that you might hear it. You suddenly can’t handle because now it’s about his-”

“I could fuck you on this table. Are you interested?”

“What the hell, Miya...”

Osamu glances down before raising an eyebrow. “Look how convenient it is for us right now.” The host’s heart starts racing and Osamu knows this because his pulse is going crazy under his finger. “I’d prefer your sister though.”

There is a loud gasp from the crowd and there is this girl, a first year, pressing a hand to her chest. Oh fuck, he really has a sister. It was a shot in the dark.

“Stop man, it’s getting weird.”

“Oooh, really?”

“Yeah...”

“But I’m not doing anything!” Osamu’s grip tightens around his neck as he shouts. “I’m just talking! How come you’re disturbed?!”

“Yeah I get it, let me-”

Osamu chokes him, turning his volume down effectively. “No, no you don’t... Not until I tell you how I would fuck every single member of your family-”

“Oh shit, Osamu, enough.” Suna’s voice comes out choked with his held back laugh.

Osamu lets go of the host’s neck. “Wait, I’m giving important details. I’ll start with this guy right here and continue with increasing dick size which means the next will be his granny...”

Somebody snickers and the built up tension finally dissipates as the people around start laughing.

“I bet she looks majestic in her skirt too. Who wouldn’t hit that? Oh the legs, oh the ankles...”

“That’s enough, calm down sexy.” Ginjima wraps an arm around Osamu’s abdomen and manages to drag him towards the door as Osamu doesn’t resist. He is still calling out though.

“You fucking shitbag! I’ll get you alone next time! You will learn how it’s done then!” He turns around with a huff.

Ginjima laughs. “Is that a threat or a promise falling from your lips?”

Osamu laughs too. “Shut the fuck up.”

Ginjima raises his hands and his eyebrows. “No homo.”

Kita-san sends Osamu to the bathroom because he thinks he will be calmer if he just pisses. People keep away from him so bad. Why does everything get around in this school like bushfire? Osamu thinks they are doing the right thing by avoiding him but it would be better if they stopped staring.

His reflection still seems mad by the time he is washing his hands. It doesn’t matter how much he relaxes his face. A few people enter the bathroom chatting loudly and immediately stop upon seeing him. Osamu glances away after a few seconds of staring at each other. The guys wash their hands in the sinks closest to the door and don’t talk to each other the whole time like they are in Osamu’s territory. So that’s what school bullies feel like. This is definitely not his finest moment.

He tries to tidy his hair like it will help with anything. Of course it doesn’t submit. It’s like all of his anger went to ruffle it. Eh… fuck it. He puts his head under the running water.

His hair is dripping on his shoulders as he goes out. The breeze makes him feel all the trickles on his neck. Some even slided down his chest. It makes his shirt stick to his skin. He tugs at his shirt in hope of it drying faster. Then he loosens his tie and opens a few buttons, exasperated.

He finds the others in the backyard. Kita-san and Aran are on their feet, discussing, while Gin, Omimi and Suna are sitting on a picnic table and listening. Osamu takes a seat too. He smells the smoke in the air, strongly, someone else was here before they took the table. Kita and Aran seem formidable, they are in parenting mode just as Osamu expected. Suna whispers his name and takes a picture of him the moment he looks at him. Then he immediately starts to type. Osamu glances at his screen to find that he’s sending it to Atsumu, captioned with _“Get your fucking dog bitch”_

Aran is not even subtle as he tells Gin to keep an eye on Osamu for the rest of the break. “It won’t be so hard Gin, Omimi is already staying here. You should get used to it anyway, we won’t be here next year.”

“Ojiro-san, I’m here too. Don’t think too much.” Suna makes a peace sign.

“Thank you, Sunarin, but we need someone who can hold the leash. Hopefully Gin is not an enabler like you.”

Osamu can’t believe Kita-san actually said leash.

“But didn’t I give good advice right there? Advisor position should be fitting for me.” Osamu has never attacked somebody like this before and Suna is having so much fun with it. He just wants to pay back by taking part in the keep-Osamu-in-a-tight-leash movement.

Kita-san nods. “Yes. That was a good call right there, and he actually listened. Try to do it before something happens.”

Aran is still after Gin. “Gin, you’re the one that’s supposed to be quick in the moment.”

“Understood, Ojiro-san.”

“Yeah? I’ve always been petrified in situations like this, I thought you would fare better?”

Kita-san turns to Aran. “That’s why you were slow?” A shade of guilt passes through his face, that’s the first and probably the last time they see him like this. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I thought you sent me there so I would talk to him.”

Osamu’s shame finally sets in as his teammates continue reflecting upon crisis management. It would never actually, because Osamu is a hundred percent sure the guy deserved it. But seeing his friends stressed out because of him makes him feel bad.

It was just one bastard and everybody is already having trust issues with him.

“...Thank god we have our fair share of influence as a club but it won’t hold out if Osamu keeps going around punching people…”

“...it’s nice that the host doesn’t seem to make a big deal about it.”

“I mean, they all know they’re not the favored ones on the top floor.”

After his long internal battle Osamu opens his mouth to apologize but Kita-san cuts in like he was waiting for this moment.

“Don’t. All things considered, good job.”

Suna whispers. “I _am_ the enabler?”

“I think there was enough provocation. The guy had it coming, it’s his problem he couldn’t see it. But Osamu,” Kita-san puts a hand on his shoulder, “time and place are factors you can’t disregard.”

Osamu gulps. Kita-san looks like he is about to teach him how to hide a body.

“I’m trying to provide a better foundation, so it can be managed quickly in case you mess up. And cleanup will be better done if we think of any possibility ahead. This will give you better room to act… and feel. Don’t bottle up until you blow up like this again, render our emergency plans unnecessary.”

Osamu can only nod. “Yes, Kita-san.”

Aran and Kita leave them after that. Sun shines through the clouds and Osamu loosens up for the first time since this godforsaken break started. They bask in the warmth and listen to the murmur of the people relaxing around before Omimi starts talking.

“You know Osamu, a few days ago somebody was disturbing my date…”

Osamu and the others perk up at this, Omimi rarely shares a personal anecdote.

“We were...” Omimi pauses and considers before shrugging, “in a bar.”

Ginjima gawks at this. “Omimi-san, I didn’t take you for the type to go out at night.”

Suna chips in. “Me neither.”

“I was at the toilet and when I went back I saw him being handsy. She was slow reacting because she drank more than she should have…”

They all nod like they have any idea about getting drunk enough to get clumsy.

“I told the guy that he should stop touching my date.” Omimi holds eye contact with Osamu for a few seconds. “And he stopped.”

Alright, point taken.

“Will there be another date?” Suna stares far ahead, lost in thought as he asks.

“I don’t think so. She is a good friend though.”

Gin decides to share his experience. “Well my girlfriend,” He pauses and his shoulders sag, “I mean, my ex girlfriend had a problem like this. I was about to beat those fuckers but she didn’t let me and solved it herself. She has been a martial artist for years though, she just flexed probably. I don’t remember much, I was mad.”

Osamu sighs. “I don’t know what Tsumu would do…”

Gin continues with that. “Yeah, would he be pleased by you stepping in or would he hate it?”

Suna chuckles. “We don’t know because he wasn’t even there.”

Osamu crosses his arms defensively as Omimi chuckles too. “But there are so many people. What do you want me to do, talk with them all? I’d need a public statement.”

Suna starts to cackle. “It would be great if you stopped,” he takes a few seconds to laugh fully, “thirsting after my brother… I love him very much and he doesn’t deserve this. Please and thank you...”

Faced with Suna’s candid cheer, usually impassive Omimi starts laughing too. “I don’t think Osamu needs to do any more public deeds in this school, Suna… It would be illegal for you to keep it in your phone if he did another.”

Suna laughs harder at this.

Gin bangs his fist on the table. “Make a diss track Osamu, make that bastard play it on the radio.”

“Yeah, turn your pain into art.”

Osamu just waits for the entertainment industry to pick him up at this point. Apparently his misfortune is very funny. They finally calm down and Suna sighs happily.

“I thought I heard wrong when Kita and Ojiro were talking about what you and Atsumu were planning. But I didn’t question.”

Suna rests his elbows on the table and clasps his hands. “You did the right thing, Omimi-san.” He smiles cryptically. “We do nothing questionable here.”

Omimi raises an eyebrow and glances away with a barely there smirk on his face but says nothing.

There is a particularly warm breeze. It feels cosy like being embraced by mother earth. Atsumu should have been here too. Osamu checks his phone. Nothing from him. What is taking so long with this interview?

Gin puts his head on the table and closes his eyes. “Being Atsumu’s brother tries one’s patience, right?”

You don’t say, Gin.

He continues with a mumble. “...Would you replace him for another sibling if you could?”

Suna replies instead of Osamu. “Gin, he would cry if Atsumu changed his hair color without telling him.”

“I wouldn't. Also no, I wouldn’t replace.”

With Osamu’s definitive answer, they once again fall silent.

The noises by the backdoor of the yard pulls them away from their comfortable daydreaming.

There are many student council members, huffing and puffing. They are carrying packages in their arms and piling them. The president is walking among them, light on his feet, pointing them the way as if they wouldn't be able to find where the back entrance of the building is on their own.

He takes a look around the backyard and shouts. “We need some strong people to carry these!”

Suna slightly slides down in his seat as if he can hide his 1.85 self. Maybe he can, with Omimi sitting in front of him.

“Yeah, to the teacher’s lounge!”

His posture is fixed all of a sudden. He clears his throat and stands up elegantly before walking to join the group of jocks who already has offered themselves.

“Ah yes, I’m a strong one.”

Osamu rolls his eyes and goes there too as the president frowns at Suna’s skirt slightly. “Doesn’t it inconvenience you-”

Osamu cuts in as he unrolls his sleeves and rolls them back up. “And it makes seven with me. Let’s go.”

The president pauses for a second before tilting his head in acceptance. The students start to pile the packages in waiting arms, as much as each can carry.

Osamu waits for Suna by the stairs, they stalled loading him in the hope that he may not be needed at all. But then somebody brought even more and they had to give them to him too. The guys who went ahead are already out of sight, their faint voices are audible but not intelligible.

Suna finally comes by the stairs and looks at Osamu over the packages he is carrying, only his eyes are visible but it’s clear he is grinning.

“Aren’t you a gentleman?”

They start climbing.

“If someone shoots themselves in one foot you shoot the other to speed up the process.”

“Asshole.”

“And the third shot will come from Yamada sensei. In your ass.”

“I will kick you and you will stick to the wall like a fly.”

“I will push you and you will fly over the railing like a rag doll.”

They look up upon hearing loud footsteps, quickly getting closer. Suna carries on with his way while Osamu stops, awestruck.

Atsumu, light of his life, is skipping down the stairs. His hand hovers over the railing as he speeds like an arrow from a bow. He holds on as he leaps over the last steps, and pivots. He puts on the brakes upon seeing the two, a big smile breaking out on his face.

“Ooh fancy seeing you here.”

“Just in time blondie, your tyrant of a lil bro is bullying me.”

Atsumu slowly descends some more as Suna passes by him. He is dishevelled and a bit breathless. He is so beautiful to Osamu like this.

“Don’t worry I’ll spank him.”

Osamu watches him under his fringe as he gets closer.

“Are they making you work again?” He doesn’t even try to hide the joy in his voice at the prospect of Osamu being slaved away.

“I volunteered this time around actually.”

Osamu closes his eyes as Atsumu reaches out to move his hair away from his eyes. He takes a deep breath to accompany his now better vision. “We both need a haircut.”

Atsumu hums and lightly touches his bruised knuckles. “What happened?” He probably overheard some shit happening, he looks not only worried but slightly guilty too. Osamu can’t accept that expression on his face. He would soothe him better, if only his hands were free.

“Don’t worry about it.”

Atsumu caresses his hand and glances at his face. “Tell me.”

“Some people were... talking shit…”

Atsumu raises his eyebrows but doesn’t look up at his face. His eyes are following the vein that has popped out on Osamu’s forearm. His fingertips join the exploration two seconds later.

“What were you doing up there?” Osamu’s voice comes out soft like he doesn’t want to distract Atsumu.

Atsumu doesn't respond. He looks spellbound. Osamu clears his throat and Atsumu’s eyes finally snap back to his face.

“What did you do upstairs?”

Atsumu gulps before making a report like he is on autopilot. “Interview. On the terrace. Done. I’m free. Gonna eat now.”

Osamu shrugs. “Well, I’m not.”

“Find me when you’re.”

“Don’t get lost.”

Atsumu rolls his eyes and stares at the ceiling for emphasis. Osamu wants to bite his lips so bad. “I never do such things.” He glances down and straightens the curled end of his skirt with a pat. Osamu loves how casual he is with it.

He looks at him once again and examines his face quitely. Takes a deep breath, combs his hand through the slightly damp grey hair. Then he leans in, grips the spiker’s bulging bicep and whispers in his ear. “Don’t drop them, Osamu.”

It makes Osamu’s hair stand on end.

“Fuck off.”

Atsumu skips downstairs, laughing. Osamu ducks his head and watches him through the gaps of the railing. His skirt flares around him and the sun hits his hair just right, making him glow like a golden fairy. He looks at Osamu once more like he can feel the weight of his gaze and shouts.

“Hold ‘em tight!”

Osamu balances them in one arm and flips Atsumu off with his free hand. Atsumu’s laughter is still resounding in the stairwell by the time Osamu can’t see him anymore.

* * *

The teachers’ lounge is a mess. Some students and teachers are squatting on the floor, opening packages curiously while some others are holding up furniture parts together to see what they will look like after assembly.

Two things are clear. They are all rainbow colored and the teachers show no mercy.

“My eyes are bleeding.”

“Was Suna-san high when she ordered these?”

“Oh I know those kinda chairs. My son sits on those… at his daycare.”

“I don’t like what he’s implying.”

A man turns about an empty package. “The exact same shape… I didn’t know they produced adult sized versions of these.” He truly sounds astonished.

“We sit on those and then what… drink chocolate milk and cut fancy paper?” The woman shoots the art teacher an apologetic look. “No shade to you, I love you baby.”

The art teacher raises the chocolate milk in her hand and winks at her.

The vice-principal enters the large room in long strides and takes one look around before closing his eyes like he doesn’t want to see anything for the rest of his life. “I told her. Not. To. Do it!” The hot tea in his mug swishes dangerously. He calms himself rather quickly and gets a contemplative expression. “But apparently they come with a very low price since the assembly is not included.”

Their goalkeeper gawks. “Suna-san consciously bought these? I thought it was a wrong delivery.”

The PE teacher offers the soundest solution as she pulls an electronic cigarette from her pocket and heads towards the door. “Let’s just return them and take the money back before it’s too late.”

The suggestion sets off the vice-principal again. “She tried that already! When they refused to carry them inside! But they left them all on the pavement and blocked her number!”

“Soul-shattering. Suna-kun please tell your aunt not to be too hard on herself.”

Another teacher chips in. “No, if I come to school everyday to see this I want her to pay a price too.”

“No worries guys, I think we can resell them!”

“Who’s gonna buy this shit?”

Somebody groans. “Oh my god…”

Osamu’s favorite teacher comes into the room, sees that his way to the closet is blocked then shrugs and jumps over the furniture parts one by one like a bunny. He takes out a thermos flask, comes to take a seat at the large oval table. He sits down with a huff and grumbles under his breath as he struggles to open the flask.

“Why does he close these bottles like there’s no tomorrow…”

Another man takes it from his hand and slides it over the table to Osamu wordlessly. Osamu loosens the cap and slides it back.

Someone else slaps Osamu’s shoulder like he’s putting him up for sale. “This room is a struggle free zone right now with our finest young men being here.”

The blond man smiles at Osamu, a bit embarrassed. Osamu gives him a thumbs up. He wonders if he can catch Atsumu in the cafeteria. He moves to leave but three delivery girls in pink uniforms enter the room.

“Bakery of Kaneshon, ordered mochis?”

The teachers look at one another questioningly as the girls put them on the table, none of them has ordered it.

One of the girls clears her throat as she takes out a small paper from her pocket. Her eyes widen upon seeing the note but she still reads it out loud with an unwavering voice.

“The walls are paper thin, you dumbfucks,

Love you as much as my nonexistent children,

Hence you should shut your mouths”

The fuck. Yells and hollers burst out in the room.

“Long live Suna-san.”

“God save the queen.”

“You boys worked hard. Sit and eat some.”

None of them refuse. They all take the empty chairs around the table.

The blond teacher’s phone starts to vibrate. He takes a look at the screen and the fondest of smiles blossoms on his face.

The oldest teacher in the room immediately teases him. “Oi Tsukauchi do you have a girlfriend, mm?”

He blushes. “No no, nothing like that…” He answers the call but accidentally puts it on speaker and a strong baritone “Hey onii-san” resounds in the room before the man manages to turn it off. He scrambles to his feet, takes two steps, turns back, grabs his thermos and leaves the room ultimately.

“I can’t believe he once again misses food. And mochi at that.”

“So few things as good in this life as brotherly love.” The old man’s eyes find Osamu’s and Osamu can already feel the remark coming his way before Inarizaki’s centre-back sitting next to him nudges his shoulder and cuts in.

“Seriously Miya, stop eating his cookies.” He lowers his voice in a gossipy manner although it is still very much audible. “Man looks like he will fly in the wind.”

Osamu gladly goes along. “He doesn’t want them…” He licks the sauce on his finger. “This is me doing charity.”

Suna surprisingly joins in to defend Osamu. “Yeah, man. Cookies need to be eaten, the teacher consents, Osamu consents, who are you to judge?”

Yamada sensei chokes on his water and shoots a deadly look at Suna.

Oh, isn't he having fun with this.

A newly transferred teacher enters the room and nearly drops the cup in her hand. “Oh my, is this the nephew of Suna-san?”

Suna smiles at her like the sweet boy he definitely is not. “Yeah.”

“You have no difference at all! This is amazing. Now I wonder about your mom.”

“Sister of my dad actually.”

The gossipy loudmouth pushes his glasses up his nose and calls out to Suna with a cheeky smile on his face. Yeah, bother Suna. He would satisfy you.

“Hey Suna, do you call your aunt sensei out of school?”

“Although there are people I would like to call sensei out of school my aunt is not one of them.”

The man throws his head back with a booming old man’s laugh while Yamada sensei subtly shifts the way he sits, his face blown red. The math teacher puts a hand on his knee with a concerned look.

“Are you alright, Yamada? We can turn off the heat.”

Ooh la la. Your fiance is burning in a very special level of hell right now.

Suna’s eyes narrow as he watches the man being doted on by his fiance. There isn’t an ounce of pity on his face. He is going in for the kill. That man will either leave school with his ring finger empty today or won’t leave at all. Osamu eats one more mochi, stands up and puts a hand on Suna’s shoulder. He looks up at him and Osamu sees on his face for the first time how much it actually hurts him to watch Yamada sensei save face with his fiance.

“You coming?”

The brunette shakes his head poutily. “No.”

Osamu pats his head. Suna is in this room once and he will milk it. He pops one last mochi into his mouth and leaves Suna there to continue giving the man a heart attack every two seconds.

The noise of the room gets muffled as he closes the door behind himself. The tranquility of the deserted corridor contrasts with the chaos he was in seconds ago and gives him a whiplash. He walks towards the stairs, his eyes on the large windows with curiosity. Since the tree branches don’t reach here as much, the top floor is brighter with the daylight.

He checks his phone.

Atsumu  
Saaaaamuuu  
Where the hell are you  
Come down already

Osamu  
On my way

He puts one foot on the stairs and looks over his shoulder upon hearing the click of a carefully closed door.

It’s Ishikawa sensei, leaving the principal’s room. She seems rather secretive. Gotta go fast. It’s unclear whether Suna sensei is dead or fucked her brains out, Osamu doesn’t want to testify for anything.

“Hey Miya!”

Oh no. She did see him.

“Yes?”

“Can we talk for a minute?”

It’s the time he got an earful for the shit he pulled in the cafeteria. Maybe she will berate Osamu for his twin’s scheme too since Atsumu is so hard to find today.

He nods and follows her as she walks further along the corridor, next to those big windows. Her dark ponytail is long and it swings over her back, her well defined shoulders strain the off-white blazer she’s wearing. She stops at a point where they can see the broad view of the schoolyard and turns around. Osamu is once again struck by how tall this woman is as they stand face to face. Her dress pants mostly hide her heels but he is sure she wouldn’t be much shorter than him without them.

“Don’t look so uncomfortable, I’m not going to talk about today’s events. I want to warn you about something more general.”

As if that doesn’t make Osamu’s blood freeze in his veins.

“I want to give you advice. Take it or leave it, I just feel the need to tell.”

If Ishikawa says she will talk about something general, it means she will be deadly specific about how you live your life and leave no survivors while doing it. Osamu prepares himself for the worst, which he doesn’t even want to acknowledge what it could be, as the woman glances at the principal’s door and crosses her arms.

“As you know, my views may come as very strict… or the ways I express them can be harsh.”

She gazes at Osamu with her head held high and raises an eyebrow.

“It may come as a surprise but I care, a lot actually.”

Osamu doesn’t lie saying that it doesn’t.

“Certain people, and the way they act… rub me the wrong way. This may be because of my personal history but I think some people need to be controlled.”

Her frown disappears as she looks out of the window, up to the sky. She seems far away for a moment before turning her attention back to Osamu. Her speech has lost its stern tone but it somehow has become more forceful.

“The way they act, the way they behave, it gives me anxiety. You may see anything else, I see vulnerability. Especially young people, you’re vulnerable. You may not agree with how I view the world, but this is my perspective. I have my fair share of experience.” She uncrosses her arms and gestures. “Some things should be preserved. Some things need protection. Certain people too, in my opinion. They… have ‘fragile’ written all over them and that’s what makes me tick.”

Osamu stays silent as she seems lost in her head for a minute. Her voice is low when she talks again, softer as if she was talking to herself.

“So unsteady, like a flickering light. You take your eyes off for a minute and the next thing you know they’re broken beyond repair.”

She once again looks at Osamu with a decisive spark in her eyes, the severity of her delivery back with its full force.

“So I never look away when I know something needs care. Even if it’s uncalled-for or considered rude.”

She waits for Osamu attentively, giving him a moment to object to her. Osamu holds his breath as she elaborates slowly.

“Between you two, you and your twin, you seem solid... Atsumu on the other hand,” she sighs, “that kid has his head in the clouds.”

Her eyebrows twist with desperation as she continues.

“I know you have busy parents. Between being an aspiring athlete, a student and a teenager, it should take a toll. I know you’re smart kids and you’re high functioning, speeding through life right now but it won’t always be like this. How does you two’s support system work? Who’s the guide, who’s the lead?”

She shakes her head while collecting her thoughts. “What I’m trying to get across is that, could you… Could you look after your brother, as if you were older?”

Osamu just stares at her.

“You don’t have to promise me anything, but can you say it out loud for yourself, so that I can hear it too, that you will be there for him?”

Osamu feels a lump form in his throat, what’s up with this woman? If only she knew who she is trusting who with.

Ishikawa immediately senses his hesitation. “May seem like a big responsibility but I know he would take care of you too in his own way.” A small smile appears on her lips, much to Osamu’s horror. “I think he cares about you more than you might be aware of.”

She turns her head to gaze upon the sky again and murmurs. “I don’t think I can reach him personally, but I don’t intend to anyway.” She squints at the passing clouds. “You are two sides of the same coin but ironically you’re my best option right now.”

The way she phrases it brings Osamu’s voice back to him. No other person would understand his twin better than him. Osamu can tell she lacks insight on that.

“We’ve already got each other’s back sensei. We were born with it, it’s only natural. I’ve done it for so long, I wouldn’t give up now.”

She leans in with a determined expression. “Not now, not later. I don’t know how this would sound to other people but something tells me you’ll get it: Don’t ever let him stray, even if he pushes you away.”

“He never does that.”

Osamu doesn’t hear the words “dense brat” as much as he feels the weight of them on his skin.

“Something may spark between you two that makes him do that.” Her usual frown makes a brief appearance. “This is how life goes. You build something up, then it comes crashing down. Whatever the case, the aftermath is the most important. That’s the critical point you hold onto someone, especially when you already share an unbreakable bond like that.”

She takes a moment to observe him.

“I’m purely acting with my gut instinct but hear this out. Just try to remain constant, and whatever you do, be gentle with him Osamu.”

All the words have left Osamu already. He feels like Ishikawa knows him inside out and he has barely even talked. They stare at each other for a few seconds, and whatever she sees on Osamu’s face must have satisfied her because she nods to herself, pats his shoulder and leaves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW underage kissing and Osamu being rough during it, non graphic violence, nonsexual choking
> 
> Donate a comment if you would like ♥️ a mf is dying


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